Breakdown
by Aleeab4u
Summary: With only a few weeks until their wedding, Bella finds herself facing some unresolved issues. Can Edward help her believe in him like she used to? E/B AU
1. Chapter 1 Falling Apart

**A/N This is a short story based on the idea of Bella dealing with some unresolved pain and trust issues after the experience of Edward leaving her in NM. It takes place a few weeks before their wedding.**

**_Can Edward help her believe in him like she used to?_  
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**Rated M for citrus content.  
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**** This story is not beta'd. Please forgive any minor errors and feel free to point out big ones.  
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**Breakdown**

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**Chapter 1 - Falling Apart**

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_It's odd how the worst moments can begin at the most ordinary of times. One minute you're immersed in the mundane chore of washing your hair, and the next you're headed for a breakdown of epic proportions. On hindsight, I realize I should have seen this coming. In my defense, though, I've gotten so good at hiding these particular skeletons at the back of my closet, I'd almost forgotten they existed. I should have known better. Some feelings just can't be buried, especially the unresolved kind…_

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Sliding from the shower, I wrap myself in a soft blue cotton bathrobe, desperately seeking some kind of comfort. I've been trying to convince myself I can hold it together all day, and for a little while I actually thought it might work. That is until the moment I step into my room, and for a split second I expect Edward to be there, waiting for me. Of course he isn't, and suddenly all the emotions I've been battling this past week begin to get the best of me.

_Damn it, Bella, get a freaking grip_. My harsh admonishment means nothing, and self doubts spin through my thoughts, mocking me. He's been gone less than two days, and I am already falling apart at the seams and hating myself more and more for my pathetic insecurities.

I force myself to look around the room – really look – and I take in the half packed boxes and packing supplies, reminding myself that my emotions are off-kilter. I have no reason to feel the way I do. The engagement ring on my left hand catching and refracting even the dim late afternoon light is more than proof if I need it. And it would seem that I do.

Edward will be back from his hunting trip with his brothers in one more day.

_Will he?_

Yes, he will. I forcefully ignore my subconscious demons. Grabbing my hairbrush, I yank it through my hair with such force that the pain alone should snap me out of this self-projected misery—except it doesn't. I've struggled through this gloom more than once since Edward left me in the woods that one awful day, though I thought I was getting a better handle on it; especially _now_ with our wedding only three weeks away. Yet here I am, once again, wallowing in my doubts and fears and letting them consume me from the inside out.

I try again to focus on the boxes, mentally sorting the items inside while I glance around the room, trying in vain to think rationally. I am moving out, moving on, finally starting a new life with the love of my existence—so what the hell is wrong with me?

_He left me._

It was a long time ago. He made a mistake, and I've forgiven him.

_Have you?_

"Yes." I say the word out loud, adamantly, because it's true. But the emptiness comes crashing down around me anyway, and I'm powerless beneath it.

It wasn't Edward's fault. He only wanted to protect me, to give me a chance at what he ridiculously called a _normal_ human life. As if anything in my life could ever be normal after he touched it. However understandable his reasons may have been, his leaving left a wound so deep that even today, with the weight of his promise heavy on my finger, I can't seem to escape my fears.

Edward believes in forever. His marriage proposal, his promise to change me, to love me for eternity, should have healed that wound. Yet here I am, falling back into that black pit of despair, terrified in spite of it.

Marriage doesn't mean forever. I know that better than some, but where is my faith? My faith in Edward, my faith in myself? I thought I had it in spades lately, so where is it when I need it the most?

I can feel my arms rising, encircling my chest, hugging myself, trying to keep the emptiness contained in a move so familiar I can hardly it. The echoes of our past return with a vengeance. Edward is the only antidote, but he isn't here.

He'll be back.

_But what if he doesn't come back?_

He will.

_You don't know that. He could change his mind. He could leave._

_Just like before..._

I move slowly, as though in a trance, back to the bathroom. Turning the shower back on, I somehow manage to remove the robe with fingers gone numb from clutching the fabric so tightly.

I forgave him.

_Did you, really?_

I trust him.

_Do you, really?_

I stand under the spray, and give in to my pain. The vortex or the past sucks me down and away from all the rational beliefs I've surrounded myself with since Italy and the near miss of losing...everything. There is no way to fight it; I've lost the will. I have one last rational thought before it consumes me entirely.

_Thank God Charlie isn't home today._

And then I'm gone, drawn back into the swirl of best forgotten memories and the sickening ache of uncertainty. Sobbing, I sink to the bottom of the tub, curling in on myself, rocking, hurting, angry, lost…

_Time doesn't heal all wounds._

_. . . . . ._

It couldn't have been more than half an hour. The water is cool but not yet cold when it happens. The sensation of hands on my skin, and the odd dizzying feeling of movement that doesn't come from my own volition, is followed just as quickly by the rush of air across my body.

_Edward._

He moves with that peculiar form of inhuman speed and grace that seems to defy logic, leaving me – the ever weak human – gasping and stunned. Snatching the comforter from my bed, he wraps it around me. I'm sitting on his lap, curled around him in the rocking chair, before my realization that he is truly here is even complete.

An odd keening sound further penetrates the fog in my head. It takes a minute to realize the noise is coming from me. I clamp my lips shut tightly to contain the sound, and as it lessens I become more aware of him. His cool breath brushes my cheek and my hair as he kisses me softly, murmuring over and over again.

"Shh, Bella, hush, love, it's okay, it's okay…"

Endlessly, until finally it breaks through. My hands fist in the soaking wet material of his shirt, and I'm soothed by the sweetness of his breath, the sound of his voice. His body is always statue hard and cool, but there is a tension now that is so strong it gives me the impression that if it were possible for him, he'd be trembling.

My breath breaks on a harsh sob, and he groans, sounding completely frantic. His hands clutch me tighter to him, pressing the blanket closer, pressing me closer to his body.

"Bella, please, sweetheart, hush. I'm here, don't cry anymore, love." He continues to rock us, somehow managing to keep a smooth rhythm despite his emotions and mine. All along, he continues murmuring nonsensical things, telling me over and over again how much he loves me, how sorry he is.

Coming back into myself slowly, I realize several things at once. The first is that his clothing is wet from my body. The second is that he really is here, somehow back more than a day early. And the third, that aside from the blanket, I am completely and utterly naked in his arms.

Sniffling, still reeling from the force of my breakdown, I try to sort these things into order of importance and fail miserably. Maybe if it weren't for the blanket I'd feel differently, but right now the only thing that really matters is that he's here, holding me tighter than I've ever felt him hold me before.

"Edward?" My voice is hoarse from crying. Somehow I manage to stutter out his name and lift my face to his. The late afternoon light has completely faded, and the room is in shadows dispelled only slightly by the small glow of a bedside lamp too far away to let me really see his face.

"Yes, love. I'm here."

The sound of his voice, coupled with the familiar shape of his shadowy features, sends more hot tears scalding down my cheeks. He groans, brushing feverishly at them with his icy fingers.

"Oh, Bella," he sighs. "What have I done to you?"

I shake my head quickly. "No, it's not you, it's me. I'm sorry I …" A hot rush of humiliation makes me stop talking. Having him see me like this is my worst nightmare.

"No!" His reply is quietly spoken yet fierce. "Do not apologize or try to take this on yourself." He growls with a low tight sound that clearly conveys his frustration. "I will not have you defending me, protecting me any longer, Bella. It ends now."

I try to sit up so I can better see his face, then I remember my nakedness and quickly press back against him, blushing furiously. There are so many things about my being naked in Edward's lap that need to be addressed, but I push that aside and try once again to speak.

"But I…"

"Hush, love, please." He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes as I subside, deciding to do as he asks.

I squirm a bit to get more comfortable, snuggling against him with a watery sigh. I'm drained and suddenly, desperately, tired. It feels so good to be in his arms, to feel that all is right again in my world, that I really can't find the will to fight. So I sit and wait, feeling my eyes grow heavy.

Despite his wet clothes and cool body, I feel warm and safe like I'm in a cocoon. I wonder if maybe I'm dreaming. The thought has me startling abruptly in fear, and I study his familiar features for reassurance. The room is growing darker with the fading daylight, but my eyes have adjusted somewhat. His expression looks intense as his eyes rake over my face, which must be a mess. Slowly his fingers trace my features.

"How did you get here; how did you know?" I need to hear his voice, though really I know the answer before he even replies.

"Alice."

Of course Alice. His sister, my best friend, and the one person in this world I cannot hide anything from. Her powers—her psychic ability to see the future—are somehow both a blessing and a curse. The thought that she witnessed this before it even happened spins my emotions back into a tangle. More tears pool in my eyes. Lowering my gaze, I blink rapidly, though nothing helps and they fall free, stinging my salt irritated cheeks. I love Alice like a sister, but there are some things I wish she couldn't see. My humiliation adds a new suffocating layer to my already overwrought mind.

"Oh, God," I mumble. "Edward, I'm sorry, please…"

"Bella." His voice holds a warning tone. I stop talking and force myself to look him in the eyes once again, though it hurts to do so. It occurs to me that his being here right now is a physical impossibility given his plans to hunt with Jasper and Emmett miles away. My fear that this is all a dream returns. Will I wake up lying in the bottom of my bathtub shivering cold and alone? The fear has me tied up in knots, so I ignore his warning tone and cling harder to his shirt.

"Edward, how did you get here? How could you…?" Despite my sudden inability to form full, proper sentences, he seems to understand my question. He gives me a wry smile.

"I've always known I was fast, Bella. I just never knew how fast until today." There is a pain in his eyes that I don't yet comprehend.

"What did Alice tell you? Why did you come back so fast?" I'm not certain I really want to know what she saw, but I can't help wanting to know what put that look in his eyes.

Carefully, as though I am made of glass, he brushes more tears from my face. I watch him studying me and trying to choose his words.

"We were tracking a mountain lion. Jasper had the scent, and Emmett and I were right behind him." His expression is tortured. "When my phone went off I knew something was wrong. It hit me like a freight train, Bella. Even before I answered and heard Alice's voice, she was projecting her images at me. He pauses and closes his eyes as I wait, not wanting to rush something that is obviously painful.

"She was on her way here to you. I could hear her running; hear the wind whipping past the phone. His eyes pop back open, and they flare like scorched coals. "She didn't need to say anything, Bella. I could see what she saw, I could hear you crying. She said she's been seeing the possibility of this for weeks, but that it kept changing which is why she didn't tell me sooner. You'd come close to falling apart then find some kind of strength to push it back down…"

"Edward, I'm so…," He doesn't let me finish.

In an instant his mouth is on mine, the force of it so abrupt and hard it almost, _almost_ hurts. He gentles the pressure immediately, his lips moving softly, his tongue slipping along the seam, making me gasp. The second I do, he lets his tongue dip inside and caress mine for a brief moment, before withdrawing and tracing my bottom lip, making it hard to breathe or think. I can taste the residue of my tears - bitter brine next to the honeyed sweetness of his mouth.

"Bella." His voice is a gruff whisper full of pain, and I begin to shake. I want very much to keep it together now, but my emotions are so out of control that I can't seem to keep reins on any of them. It's all too much. I sob against his mouth, hating myself for doing this to him, hating my weakness.

Struggling for some semblance of control, I latch on to our conversation, needing to just keep him talking so he'll stay, so he won't grow tired of my endless clinging and walk out.

"You said Alice was on her way here when you spoke to her?" My question comes out broken, my voice clogged with tears.

"Yes, love." The emotion in his eyes is still unfathomable as he studies my expression. "She came as soon as she saw what was to happen. She was hoping to help you somehow before it went too far, to distract you and buy me some time to get here." He sighs and kisses my tear-stained cheeks with a feather light caress that creates tingles of warmth through my body. "She was too late." His voice turns harsh, and I wonder suddenly if he is angry with her.

"She couldn't have known, Edward." I sit up and turn more towards him, forgetting for a moment my lack of clothing, desperate only to defend Alice. "It came on so fast, I didn't…"

"Shh, sweetheart. I know, I know." The blanket slips, but his eyes remain fastened on mine. My partial exposure means nothing as his gaze continues to search my own.

"Don't be angry with her," I manage to say as still more tears slip away from me. He seems surprised at my plea.

"I'm not angry at Alice, love, quite the opposite. In fact, I am once again in her debt. She sees what I in my arrogance do not."

"I don't understand."

"Listen to me, Bella." He draws in a breath he doesn't need, shutting his eyes briefly, obviously struggling with something. When he opens them again, his expression is so fierce it's almost frightening. For a moment he truly is the dark immortal vampire and not just Edward Cullen my fiancé.

"I know why you are upset. I've known for a while now that you've been struggling, but like a fool I've tried to deny it."

I shake my head, terrified that he might be under some horrible, misguided comprehension, like believing I might be questioning any part of our future.

"Bella, please, love! I need you to be still and just listen. There are things we've left in the past that need to be brought back up into the light, aren't there?"

He doesn't wait for or seem to even require a response. I shudder slightly, hating with every fibre of my being that I have brought this darkness out in him. He has suffered enough, and I wanted to spare him this side of my weak humanity, this guilt for things he can't change and shouldn't have to.

"I will never forgive myself for what I did to you, and I know that my leaving, even for just the smallest amount of time, now causes you so much anxiety. How can it not knowing you as I do, knowing the damage I did with my stupidity. I've done this, Bella, and yet still you try to hide it, try to protect me, but at what cost?"

I shake my head, sniffling and feeling more and more pathetic.

"Hear me now, Bella, my love, my life. I vow to you, swear to you with everything that I am I will never leave you again. As long as you want me, I'm yours."

I cling to the words, still trembling because some parts of me doubt he can mean what he says. I hate that, but I can't escape this fear no matter how irrational I might believe it to be. Even now, curled in his arms with his sweet breath washing over my skin in ways it never has before, I'm afraid. Even with all his promises, nothing changes. There is a part of me still that can't believe he won't find another reason to leave.

"Bella, you are my life. Please try to understand that without you I cannot exist. You've given back to me the parts of myself that I believed were lost forever. I had no soul, but loving you has meant that I can at least share yours. I had no happiness, no joy, but loving you has brightened my dark existence with every ounce of sunlight denied to me and my kind. You are my sun, Bella Swan, only you, and your light shines on me every second of every day. Can you honestly believe me capable of living without these things, without you?"

Slowly, as though he is afraid to startle me, his hand rises and comes down feather light against my chest, directly over my heart. "Your heart beats for both of us now, and it will keep beating until the day we silence it together in exchange for our eternity."

He lowers his mouth to mine, his cool breath washing over me. "I left and it nearly killed us both. I won't do it again, Bella."

His kiss is soft, but more intense than any other we've shared, and I want so desperately to believe him. Crying out, I arch my entire body closer to him, my hands finally unclenching from his shirt to delve into the silkiness of his hair as I yank him closer, trying to drown my fear in his kisses. Like always, all too soon, he pulls away, his panting breath my only proof that he is at least a little affected by my touch. His eyes are darker, burning into mine, and it's only then that I become fully aware of where his hand is still placed covering my heart, curled around the top of my breast.

My heart begins to pound, and the icy coolness of his fingers sends darts of contradictory warmth spiralling over my skin. The violent shudders that have wracked me slowly stop, only to be replaced by a gentler, somehow more intense trembling that seems to come from my very core.

"Edward." My voice is a throaty whisper, and I lick my lips nervously. My nakedness is no longer an abstract thing, but a base reality that startles me out of my self-doubting misery. "Your hand is on my…"

He smiles, a half grin that doesn't really reach his eyes. "Yes." Simple, straight to the point, and I wait breathlessly, knowing it will only be a second before he removes it. I can't help desperately wish I was in a better frame of mind so I could truly appreciate the way it feels before he moves. A second passes, and then another and another, and still he stays. His eyes remain locked on mine, his expression so intense I wish I could tell what he's thinking.

"I love you, Bella."

I cannot move. My body is coming alive in every nerve, but I _cannot_ move. Need, powerful and heavy, pins me in my place so that I can only whimper in response to his declaration. Everything inside me draws in tight, and I want to scream.

_Prove it, prove it now, right now. _But I can't speak because if he turns me away, if he says no, _again,_ I will break, and I don't think I can stand another round of whatever this is.

He's still staring, watching, and I know he hates that he can't read my mind. My face, though, is an open book. I watch as understanding suddenly sparks in his eyes. His nostrils flare, and his eyes turn blacker than I have ever seen them, blacker even than the midnight color that marks his thirst.

"Tell me, Bella. Tell me how to prove my words. Tell me what you need to take this pain away." His voice has a raspy, husky quality I've never heard before. He looks...hungry.

_You_, my body screams. _I need you to touch me, show me what you cannot show me with empty words,_ but my mouth remains closed, and the pain begins to creep back in. I close my eyes to hide it from him, pressing my face back against his neck, choking on tears I refuse to shed more of.

_I won't beg._

_I won't._

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	2. Chapter 2 Coming Together

**Breakdown**

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Chapter 2 - Coming Together

_I won't beg._

_I won't..._

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There is no sense of movement. One moment I'm on his lap, curled against his stone cold chest, and the next I'm on the bed, Edward above me, his eyes burning into mine. His movements are so fast, so fluid, that my mind never has a chance to absorb the action.

The air around my damp skin is warm, but the coolness radiating from his body is what sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. My heart begins to hammer erratically in my chest, and I forget to feel anything except this. I ache to pull him down to me, but this is unknown territory and I feel paralyzed. I close my eyes, wondering when I'm going to wake up because there is no way _this_ can be real.

Slowly, Edward covers my body with his, keeping most of his weight balanced on one arm. With the other he cups my face, his thumb moving gently over my cheek and across my bottom lip. I gasp as his cold touch glides over my mouth, and my eyelids compress tighter down. I forget how to breathe.

"Open your eyes, Bella." His voice is velvet smooth, his tone so commanding that I instantly do as he asks.

"I want you. Let me love you, let me show you all the things I can't find words for."

My insane emotions finally begin to melt into one desire. Carefully, I raise my hand and touch his face as lightly as he now touches mine. I need him so much, and all I want is to nod, to say yes, but we've made promises and agreements that I'm not sure we should break.

He easily reads my expression and turns his head to kiss my palm, sending electric darts of sensation racing over my entire body.

"Don't worry, we won't…_I won't,_ let things get too carried away." He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and shakes his head. Pressing his face tight against my wrist, he shuts his eyes with a deep sigh.

I can literally feel his internal struggle in the tension of his body.

After a long minute, he raises his head and looks at me, his expression less intense, as though he's won whatever inner battle he was fighting. "I won't hurt you, Bella, don't be afraid. Let me touch you; let me show you how much I need you. How much I long to please you."

My heart literally seems to stop beating. One missed beat, two. It flutters against my chest hard and frantic before finally resuming some kind of rhythm, though it's too fast to be normal. I know he's watching my face carefully, trying to read my thoughts, just like I know he is listening to every stuttering, racing beat of my heart. I know he is waiting, that he will not make a move without my permission, and I breathe him in deeply, exhaling with a soft whimper of pure need. His name is only a whisper, but he hears me.

"Edward…_yes_."

With a deep growl that sounds dangerously like an expression of his need, he captures my mouth in a searing kiss. My lips seem to melt against the hardness of his. I cry out softly as he rolls to his side, taking me with him, pulling me completely flush against his body.

I lose track of time and reality as he kisses me again and again until the room seems to spin around us.

He pulls away slightly, cool lips moving to brush soft kisses over my cheek, his tone of voice a barely restrained growl as he whispers, "Breathe, Bella."

Down my jaw line his mouth moves, while one hand weaves into the damp, tangled strands of my hair, easily tugging my head back so he can reach my neck. I feel him lick the pulse point that spasms just under my ear, and we both groan at the same time.

My hands reach erratically for the buttons on his shirt, but he moves faster than me. I hear the sound of fabric tearing only a millisecond before his bare skin connects with mine. The contact is more than electric, and we both freeze. My breasts are pressed tightly against him, and I feel my nipples tightening into tiny points. We are skin to skin for the first time. He groans again with a small shudder that sends darts of pure want racing around my stomach and down between my legs.

Despite the violence of his reaction, his hands never falter or change in speed or pressure. Carefully they glide over my back while his mouth resumes its exploration of my throat, the slight curve of my shoulder, the sharp angles of my collarbones. Slowly, oh, so slowly, his hand slides down my back to the slight indent at the base of my spine. Lower, until his splayed fingers cup the curve of my bottom before stroking upwards again to the slope of my hip, then down over my leg until he hooks his fingers behind my knee, drawing it up over his own. Higher still, until my thigh rests against his narrow waist. I cannot breathe.

Lips cold and smooth travel over the top of my chest, and I manage to draw in a quick gasp of air just before his mouth opens and his tongue flicks against the top of my right breast. His hand moves again, this time from just behind my knee in a backwards retracing of his previous path. Only now, when he reaches my hip, he moves up and over my ribs with a slowness that almost feels like torture. Moaning his name, I arch against his mouth, needing some kind of contact. He groans in response to my movement, and I grab handfuls of his hair, tugging hard, trying to get him closer. I don't know how he is holding on to his control; I only know mine is gone completely. I cry his name as his hand finally cups my breast, the sensation making me tremble against him.

All our previous attempts at this have not prepared me for the feeling of his hand on my bare flesh. The second his fingertips begin to tenderly caress my nipple, my entire back arches into the touch.

"Edward…oh, God…oh… _please_." I have no idea what I'm begging for, but the lines of my body are tightly drawn in this aching need that seems to want to devour me.

"Bella, you are so lovely, so perfect."

His words send me even higher, and my trembling becomes constant. Desperately trying to cling to my sanity, I move my hands in a traveling path over his chest, my breathing quick and unsteady along with my racing heart—down over the muscled ridges of his abdomen, the coolness of his skin teasing my fingertips. When my hands reach his belt buckle, I immediately begin to jerk it open. I pull the button free and reach for the zipper, but no sooner does my hand connect then I am suddenly on my back with both hands pulled above my head, my wrists pinned to the pillow.

Edward is once again above me, completely still except for the ragged rise and fall of his chest as his breath rasps noisily through his open mouth. His eyes are shut, his jaw so tightly clenched I fear it must be painful. I watch him swallow, the muscles of his throat completing the action with an almost violent spasm. He does it again and again, and I _know_ that the venom must burn his throat as it makes its way down.

Unable to control my trembling, I try in vain to tug my hands free, wanting to soothe him somehow. The loss of his touch is painful.

Slowly his eyes open. His gaze rakes over my face then down my body, as if he needs to make sure that his momentary loss of control hasn't caused any damage. Finally, his gaze meets mine again as he groans.

Terrified that he will leave me now with my body tied in these agonizing knots, I whimper. "Edward, please, don't stop, I need you, don't leave me."

His nostrils flare and his eyes, already impossibly black, darken even further until I can no longer tell where his pupils end and his irises begin. He shakes his head, smiling slowly, a controlled yet dangerous edge to his expression. Lowering his head, he brushes my mouth with his, and I know he's drinking in my scent.

"You overestimate my strength, love, if you think I could leave you now." His gaze lowers, taking in my body stretched out beneath him. Slowly, he draws back until he is on his knees, and I'm pinned to the bed by nothing more than the expression on his face. Sitting back on his heels, he carefully reaches down and pulls his belt free, tossing it to the side of the bed. The sound of his zipper seems loud in the silence that is broken only by the puffing of my unsteady breathing.

My weak human perceptions barely recognize the blur of movement that momentarily takes him away from me. He is back before I've even blinked, naked except for dark colored boxer briefs slung low on his hips. His very obvious arousal strains against the thin cotton, and he watches my expression warily as I take in the sight of him. To say he is beautiful would be the understatement of my lifetime, but no other descriptive word even comes close. I ache to touch him, though I keep my hands to myself, too afraid of making any movement that might shatter his control and end this.

He curves his palms around my waist and lifts me onto his lap, my thighs opening automatically to straddle his hips. The core of my heat presses with intimate intensity onto the rigid slope of his erection, and I gasp and shudder almost totally undone by the contact. My entire body is on overload, and I can't help but rock my hips forward, the motion creating the sweetest friction. The effect is unlike anything I've felt, sending shivers over my skin and igniting the sweetest ache directly where we are pressed together. Before I can do it again, his hands grasp my hips and lock me in place with a hiss that is so erotic it sends an instant rush of heat and wetness to soak the thin layer of fabric between us.

Edward's moan is loud as he registers the sensation of the reaction I can't hide, and his lips press hard against mine in a kiss that is only barely restrained. Once again, he tangles the fingers of one hand into my hair, tugging my neck back until my whole body arches. His hips rise, pressing me harder against the cold rigidity that seems to pulse now against me.

His mouth moves to the hollow at the base of my throat, and the moist cool exhalation of his breath pours over my skin. The pleasure of that sensation seems to tear at me, and I tighten my thighs around his hips, frantically trying to press closer and ease my torment.

I am not prepared for this. Not even our most passionate petting sessions, nor any one of my own fumbling self-explorations, has taught me what my body is capable of. Now, hovering on the very edge, I want only to chase this feeling that has so long eluded me. Raw need makes me reckless, and I scrape my nails down the nape of his neck and across his shoulders.

"Edward," I moan loudly. It's a sob and plea all at once. Every emotion, all of my fears and doubts are being consumed by the fire that burns inside of me, and I can hardly stand it. "Please," I whimper beyond dignity beyond embarrassment. "I need…please."

"Yes, Bella," he growls, and then suddenly I am on my knees with him behind me. Once again, his actions are too fast for my weak human eyes. His hand grips my jaw, turning my face back over my shoulder, his mouth covering mine, swallowing my cry. He pulls me back tightly yet gently, and I can feel his erection, naked now, pressing against my spine. The cold touch of him is barely noticeable in the burning fires of my body. I want to turn around and see what I can feel, but he won't let me move.

"I love you," he says while his free hand strokes my breasts, caresses my nipples as I burn impossibly hotter.

"I will always love you." And his hand strokes down my belly and over my hips.

"I am yours, Bella." And the perfect touch of his hand moves lower still, until he cups me intimately in a move so hot and possessive I can't breathe.

"You are mine." He growls the words, and I see stars.

He shudders against me, his hips rock forward while his fingers part the tender, secret folds of my body's most private place, and suddenly we are rocking together. He enters me carefully with one wicked finger, then two, stretching tender flesh with a gentle touch so perfect I feel nothing except pleasure. I cry out and press against him, reaching up with one hand to cup the back of his head, wanting, needing, to keep him close. My other hand reaches down and covers his, barely able to believe he is really, _finally_, touching me.

I can feel the heat of my response through his hand, the wetness that coats his fingers. I'd be embarrassed if it didn't feel so good I'm beyond any form of shame.

Edward groans loudly at the contact of my palm, and he shudders even harder before pressing his face into the curve of my neck. His thumb moves to press lightly against my clit, and slowly he traces circles against it, over and over. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, and my inner muscles clench down almost painfully tight around his fingers. I have never felt anything like this before, and I cannot stop the soft cries that tear from my throat. My hand leaves Edwards, and I reach back grasping his hip, needing to touch him, to anchor myself to him as I come apart. My other hand clenches tighter in the silk hair at his nape, nails scratching his diamond hard skin. His free arm encircles my waist, holding me to him, holding me up, keeping me still as the devastating touch of other hand speeds up.

For a second the pleasure is so intense that I'm afraid. Edward raises his head, sensing instantly that I'm holding back, fighting the feelings I've never experienced. I feel and taste the cool sweetness of his breath as he presses his mouth just below my ear.

"I will never leave you, Bella, never. Let go, love...come to me."

It's all I need, this last sweet reassurance, and I shatter into a million pieces. Waves of pleasure carry me away and sweep me back, pulsing over and over as Edward's arms keep me locked against him, the rhythm of his touch never faltering. I feel his body shudder one last time against mine, and the cool liquid proof that he finds his own pleasure, pulses against my back. I fall back against him, drained and spent.

We stay that way for what feels like a long time. My breathing finally slows, and Edward gently pulls away and lays me down on the bed on my side. The loss of contact makes me shiver.

"No," I whimper, but he presses a tender kiss to my cheek.

"It's okay, love; just one second."

It actually feels like less than that before he returns. He softly washes my back with a warm cloth before drying my skin just as gently. Slowly, he lays us down and tries to tuck the blankets around me. I push them away and he relents, allowing me to wrap my arms around him. He covers both of us with the blanket as I rest my cheek against his chest and drape my leg over his thigh. I cannot bear to lose this closeness with him now. Exhaustion is pulling at me and though I ache for sleep, I don't want this moment to end. My frustratingly human body, of course, could care less about what I want. I can feel myself slipping under. I cling tighter to Edward, fighting the urge.

He laughs softly and presses his lips to my forehead. "Sleep now, Bella, I'm here, love. I won't leave, sleep." He rubs my back, quietly humming my lullaby. For the first time in weeks I fall deeply, quickly asleep.

. . . . . .


	3. Chapter 3 Finally Whole

**Breakdown  
**

****. . . . . .

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**A/N One last short chapter, because it felt just a little bit incomplete somehow**.

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Chapter 3 Finally Whole

. . . . . .

I don't want to wake up. My head feels thick, and a dull throbbing headache only adds to the desire to just roll over and go back to sleep. It isn't going to happen. I'm already too awake. I shift restlessly under the covers, feeling oddly disjointed and…_naked_?

The entire night comes rushing back at me all at once, and I instantly freeze. I remember all of it, every raw second.

The shower, the crying, the way I fell utterly and completely apart. Edward's arms around me, holding me _naked_ while I sobbed like an insane woman in his lap—his pleas, his promises, his sadness, his touch.

I force my eyes open and he's there, leaning against the wall by my window. Dressed in nothing more than a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips, the button unfastened, he's too gorgeous to bear.

I sit up slowly, mindful of my aching head and even more mindful of the sheet that I'm clutching around me. In contrast to his perfect self, I instinctively know I must look like hell. My mouth feels full of cotton, and my hair spills around me in a riot of curls and tangles. The feel of it brushing against my bare shoulders and back makes me feel even more naked and oddly vulnerable.

I know he realizes I'm awake, but he doesn't turn away from the window. I take advantage of the moment to run my fingers through my hair in a ridiculous attempt at taming the mess.

"Good morning, Bella," he finally murmurs, turning slowly to face me. Something in his eyes and his expression as he looks at me, tells me that maybe I don't look as bad as I think I do. His familiar half-smile is warm, an approving glint in his eyes.

Not knowing what to do with that thought, I scoot to the edge of the bed, kicking the rest of the covers to the floor while still clinging to the sheet. By the time I get my feet under me, he's already across the room at the side of the bed, no doubt wanting to prevent me from falling on my face. In fact, I do stumble a bit as the sheet tangles around my legs. I blush furiously as his hands wrap around my upper arms, steadying me.

"Careful, love." His tone is kind, patient, but mine isn't when I reply.

"Yeah, I know, I'm a klutz." _An idiot, a weak crybaby, a burden._ I don't say my thoughts out loud, but I can think of plenty of adjectives that would describe how I feel about myself today, none of them flattering.

"You're adorable."

"You're biased."

He chuckles. He places his fingers beneath my chin, applying gentle yet firm pressure, lifting my head. I drink in the sight of him all the way up. His bare feet, his jean clad thighs, the undone button low on his abs, the thin trail of hair across an otherwise smooth, hard expanse of skin. Higher still, to the planes of his chest, the column of his throat and finally his impossibly handsome face and expressive eyes.

"Will you never see yourself clearly?" He's smiling, though his tone is slightly exasperated.

I don't want to fight so I shrug and try to step around him. He stays directly in my path.

"Bella, we should talk about last night."

I nod and bite my lip, not sure I agree at all but knowing it's unavoidable. Edward will not let what happened last night go without talking about it, and even I know we need to clear the air.

"Okay, I just need…a human minute."

He steps away, allowing me to pass. In my hurry to get away from all this awkwardness, I forget to even grab clothes. My reflection in the bathroom mirror is surprisingly reassuring, still just me. The reflection of the shower behind me is anything except reassuring however, as I remember the way Edward found me. I'm not sure which is worse, the embarrassment, or the disappointing realization that the first time Edward saw me naked wasn't even remotely sexy.

I take care of necessities, wash my face and hands with more force than needed and brush my teeth twice. My hair looks like a lost cause and my hairbrush is in the other room, so I give up and quit stalling. Thankfully my robe is still on the floor. I pull it on, grateful not to have to stumble back into the room still wrapped in a sheet.

Edward is sitting on my bed, leaning against the headboard, looking like every girl's fantasy. A new flood of images from last night leaves me blushing and fidgety. I snag my brush from my desk and purposely sit on the end of the bed where I don't have to look directly at him. I begin trying to work some of the worst of the snarls out, and nervously wait for him to begin.

He obviously senses my reluctance, and I hear him sigh heavily, a sound usually synonymous with the sentence: '_Please be reasonable, Bella_.' He doesn't say it though, and I'm extremely glad for the reprieve.

The bed dips slightly as he moves in behind me. His legs sliding out around my hips till his feet come to rest on the floor beside mine, cradling me, my back against his chest. Of course the parallels of this action in comparison to last night are not lost on either of us. My body reacts instantly by trembling slightly, and his freezes like a statue. His reaction lasts only a brief few seconds, and then he is chuckling lightly. He presses a soft kiss to my neck, then slips the brush from my non-responsive and still trembling fingers. Carefully, he begins running it through my hair as I take a ragged breath to calm myself.

"You have the most beautiful hair, Bella, have I ever told you that?"

I shake my head, distracted as always by his touch.

"I wanted to tell you that last night, while we were making love. Apparently though, lust and coherency do not go together." He laughs ruefully. I don't miss that he calls it 'making love' despite the fact the full act never happened. Edward is nothing if not a gentleman.

My cheeks burn, my entire body flushes, tingles. He inhales as though he's dragging my scent in and groans softly.

"I wanted to tell you a lot of things last night, Bella. May I tell them to you now?"

My heart can't take this. It flutters wildly, making me breathe too fast. Somehow I manage to nod.

"You have the most beautiful hair…"

"You already said that," I whisper, not trusting my voice at all.

"I'm starting at the beginning, love, don't distract me." He presses a cold kiss against the nape of my neck and then blows against the dampness. Goose bumps break out over my entire body.

He continues as though I never interrupted him, "The most beautiful skin, so soft and warm and yet flawless, like fine, sun-warmed porcelain. The feel of your skin against mine... Bella, you can't imagine how that feels to me."

I think he's wrong, I can imagine. At least I can if it feels anything at all like the way his skin felt against mine. Not that I can tell him that. Not that I could tell him anything right now when he's stolen my ability to breathe.

Brushing my hair to the side, he presses another kiss against my neck. "The curve of your hips, the inside crease of your elbow, the tiny birthmark on the right side of your spine."

His lips move under my ear, and my heart hammers so loud even I can hear it.

"Not one inch of you is less than perfect, less than exquisite." His mouth brushes my ear, and he whispers, "Thank you, for letting me love you."

I want to turn around and throw myself at him, but I force myself to stay very still while I commit every word he's just said to memory. Later, when I'm alone, I will remember each and every detail of this moment. Right now there are still too many other things left unsaid.

He's silent for a long while, and the soft drag of the hairbrush relaxes me. He patiently works out each tangle, never yanking, and I relax even more knowing that this is what he's waiting for.

"Tell me what happened last night, Bella?" His question is softly spoken, coaxing.

Sighing, I try to find the right words. It's on the tip of my tongue to say I'm sorry, instead I swallow the urge. I _am_ sorry, but only because he had to see me that way. I would have kept some of this from him, but it's out now, and I know I need to be honest.

"I don't know, Edward. I guess everything just came crashing down on me at once. The wedding, our future, our past, and I just…"

_Fell apart, had a complete mental breakdown, lost my mind_.

I shake my head and pull away from him, moving to the window and opening it. The air outside is warm, and a light drizzle has begun to fall. I breathe it in, trying to clear my head. Edward deserves more than a weak answer like, _I don't know_.

Slowly, turning to face him once again, I opt for simple honesty. "You left me. I loved you. I trusted you."

The expression of pain on his face hurts my heart. I want to stop, to go to him and tell him that it doesn't matter, except I know he'll only see it for the lie it is. The truth is it does matter because forgiving doesn't mean forgetting.

"You broke my heart."

His eyes stay locked on mine, listening. He nods.

"You broke _me_."

He winces.

I wait.

He stands slowly, and still his eyes never leave mine. Crossing the room, he stands in front of me and touches my face—just a barely there brush of his fingers against my cheek before lowering his arm to his side again.

"I won't do it again." His words are said quietly, yet with a conviction I can feel as he wills me to believe him.

I think he stops breathing.

Smiling, I slide my arms around his waist. Rising on tiptoe, I brush my lips over his, needing him, needing his touch more than air, more than anything. I close my eyes, breathing in his scent as his arms wrap around me. There is little left to say, just two simple words. I say them quietly, yet with conviction, willing him to believe.

"I know."

He exhales, pulling me closer as we put the past behind us and prepare for the future.

. . . . . .

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Thanks for reading.

Aleea


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